Bastion's mortal life
by Fanatical-Chick
Summary: Johnny Depp-playing a Crow-inspired character. Bastion reflects on his life, and the hard times he's been through. Rated R for mature subject matter. He's had a horrid life, kiddies...don't let little ones read it. PLEASE R
1. Life

Ok...so...here's my Johnny Depp playing a Crow chara's life story, from his own p.o.v. heh. his nickname/middle name's Bastion, just so you know. He felt like talking out about his life through me today. And who am I to deny a hottie a chance to talk? lol. Warning. Mature subject matter. If you're squeamish about child molestation, drugs, prostitution, or...well...you know, the low-life of the country, don't read this. you'll save me and you a bunch of pain and sorrow.

Mandatory Disclaimer: Ok...so I don't own the Crow (DAMNIT!) and I certainly don't own Johnny Depp (DOUBLE DAMNIT! DAMNIT TO HELL!) so don't sue my pants off. And this isn't a Johnny Depp fiction, so to speak. This is just a role I thought he'd be really good playing. I'd always thought he'd make a good Crow, and this is the Crow that sorta...came out of that idea. heh. e.e you'll find out more about his life later on. But now, it's just an unfinished background story. I'll finish it sooner or later, maybe. heh. e.e

By: Melassa G. (Fanatical Chick.)

I wish I could say that Áine had been my daughter, and not just my sister. I mean, emotionally, she was both. She loved me like a brother; played with me, enjoyed being around me, and as a father; she looked to me for guidance and protection. I was the only father she'd ever known and almost her mother as well. But biologically, legally, we were only siblings, and only half at that. I wish I'd been her real father, because I feel like I would have been able to give her so much more. A Hellova lot more than the man who fucked that whore who likes to call herself our mother. I often hear people say "The apple never falls far from the tree." But that infuriates me. Why did Áine and me have to be like our mother just because we were born from her? I tried my damnedest to teach Aine that she didn't have to live like that, that she could be better. I wanted to be better. From the first day of her life, even when I was 15, I swore to myself that she wasn't going to be another Hooker on the streets.

That's why I dropped out of school as soon as I was old enough to get a job. No one would take care of Aine while I was at school, and that meant she went with our mother, to the whore house, got shoved in some dark corner where she wouldn't be in the way while our mother got her drug money. I wouldn't let her be raised in that. I won't lie, I do love my mother, as every child does deep down, not matter who they are, but I also hate her. I don't know which I hate myself for; loving, or despising her. 

Sometimes I wished it were back to the way it was before my dead-beat father left us. Sure, it was Hell back then, too, but at least we had the slightest resemblance of functionality. But I know I wouldn't let Aine live in that, either. I'd rather have killed her after she was born than have her know my father. Outwardly, we were the typical slum family; druggie parents who couldn't keep a job and didn't care how they looked, how clean the house was.

But after that, corruption wrecked anything that could have made us a family. My mother was the worst about the drugs and alcohol. I remember getting high off of Marijuana smoke she filled the house with. I didn't like it. Maybe I'm allergic to the stuff. All I know is, it made me sick as a dog. She didn't seem to care that her son spent his afternoons retching in the bathroom every day.

Or, for that matter, that her husband "made love" to his son more than to her. I suppose my father liked little kids with his drugs. Or maybe it was just a control thing. I don't know. And frankly, I don't care. He took my innocence from me when I was only six years old. I doubt anyone can know what it's like to be six years old and to have your childhood taken from you in such a horrible way unless you've been there before. Even after he'd gone, after I was grown, I would jump at the slightest sound in the night, afraid it was him, coming to...well...

All in all, I guess I'm lucky I'm so functional after what I've been through. I could have done a lot worse for myself than I have. And who knows; if Aine hadn't come along, I could have. It's amazing how feeling as though there's someone out there who depends on you can bring you from the edge of Hell, if only to make sure they were taken care of. Before she was born, I used to cut my arms just to numb the pain I was feeling inside. I've got scars that never healed because of how badly I'd hurt myself. It felt good. I felt like, if I hurt my outsides enough it would help me forget the pain inside of me. I used to bite my tongue, lips, and cheeks so hard I bled. I loved the taste of my own blood. It reminded me I was alive. I thought about killing myself lots of times. I toyed with the idea, cutting my stomach and chest, stabbing myself just deep enough to have an idea of how it felt to feel a knife stab in and take my life without actually causing too much damage.

No one else knew about it, of course. I imagine I would have been sent to some sort of nut-farm. I hid the scars from everyone with black, long-sleeved shirts, and I never wore shorts. I'm sure my teachers all suspected something, but it would be years after I'd stopped before I would actually tell anyone about it.

After Aine came, though, it was like I woke up. I knew I couldn't let myself die, because she needed someone to take care of her. So, when she was two and I was only 17, I dropped out of school. Which really bothered my teachers, I know. I was one of the few children from the slums who actually tried. I'd always loved school. And I think they saw a lot of promise in me. Yes, I was the kind that always sat in the back, never talked to anyone, and was always quiet, scaring the others and making them think I was going to bring some sort of weapon to school, but I had a love for learning. The way I looked at it, if I didn't get an education, I wouldn't be able to get out of the Hellhole that was my home. But, unfortunately, I was forced to leave and take care of my little sister. After she started kindergarten, I was able to get a job to actually buy food and supplies for us, because our mother certainly wasn't going to do that, and it took a bit of the load off, being able to know that she was taken care of while I was able to make ends meet, to an extent. We didn't see much of our Mother, and frankly, that was the way I liked it. The less me and her saw of each other, the better we got along. She knew I didn't like the way she lived, and she hated me for going so much against what she felt was her right to do as she pleased. She saw me, I think, as just one of those stuck-up middle classed people, as she thought of them, but as a necessary nuisance, because I was the one that bought the food and paid the bills around the house. Aine never really thought of her as a mother, I don't think. I think that's best. 

Ok, so that's how far I've gotten so far. heh. Got any thoughts you'd like to give me? Go ahead. heh. I love constructive criticism...it's kinda weird the things my mind can come up with though, huh...? Poor Bastion. He's all messed up. heh. e.e 


	2. Rebirth

That was the way it went for years. Me and Áine living from day to day, not seeing much of our mother. I finally got a construction job, down by the square, when she was about 3. I worked there for a while, and it was good money, even if it was hard work. I never minded the hard work. I looked at it like...if I could make the money and support us, I didn't care how I did it, as long as it was legal. Growing up on the "wrong side of the tracks," so to speak, watching people on the wrong side of the law my whole life...I never had been to sympathetic for that life. I'd seen to many times when someone could have gone the straight and narrow, done what was right, but didn't, and because of it had either died...or ended up in jail...or worse. I may have been a slum kid, but I wasn't stupid.

Everyday, after I'd finished my shift at the construction sites, I would go and pick up Áine from school. I couldn't afford a car, so I had to walk. Even then, I was a scrawny kid. walking that far and eating so little tended to do that to someone. The route I took...unfortunately...had to go through the territory of a couple of fighting gangs. Not that I could help that. If not even the police could stop them, what was I going to do, right? And somewhere along the lines...over the years...my presence went noticed, by both sides of the fight. At first it didn't seem like anything, I don't think. But...I appeared enough, was in the neighborhood one to many times...and they started thinking I was a member of the opposite side. Had I know this, I would have...well...I don't really know what I would have done...

I tried to stay away from them as much as possible. I always had been a bit of a loner, and especially on the streets, where if you were to personable, you were dead. It was just street-smarts, to keep out of their way. So I did just that. And day after day, I went back and forth between work and the school, picking up Áine and taking her home.

But then...when you're noticed like that...it's bound to come back to haunt you, whether it was your fault or not. That day...I...I didn't notice anything off, same as always. but...who does in these kinds of things. I'm sure if half the people that have had bad things happen to them knew it was going to happen...they would avoid it...

I remember picking up Áine from school, same as always...I was carrying her on my arm, she was always a little girl for her age...I turned down the corner, headed down the alley...and...and the next thing I knew, we were being fenced in by a circle of guys...kids, really. Everything seemed to blur into everything else...I heard accusations of being a Blood...or a Krypt...I dunno...I was scared, and I could tell that Áine was, too. I denied it, of course, tried to convince them to let us go, but...well, the next thing I know, I was running. I'd somehow broken through the group and I was running with her in my arms, trying to get somewhere...anywhere...I could be safe. 

Normally, if you're being attacked, you head for a crowded area...something about gangs...that doesn't matter...they'll cut your feet out from under you either way. And I knew we hadn't gotten far. I heard a shot, a couple of shots maybe...and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. I dimly remembering trying to throw Áine away from me, so I wouldn't crush her underneath me...she landed less than a foot away from me...and the fear she'd already had erupted into tears. I tried to stand up...it took me a long moment to realize that...I couldn't feel my legs, but I could feel sharp pains all over my back. I felt like I couldn't breathe...I don't know if it was from the wounds, or just the panic...but I felt like I was suffocating, like everything I was doing was slowed, as if I were in a pool of water. 

I heard their footsteps behind me, but I ignored it when I reached for Áine. I wanted to pull her closer and just hold her, make her stop crying...as if that would make everything better...but...they took her from me. I remember reaching for her as she was lifted away from me...and then feeling myself being lifted up after her. They dangled me by my arms, where I could see them, what they were doing...and they were holding her up by her hair...They were talking to me...I can't remember what they said...it was all a blur at that point...I tried to tell them to let her go...I remember laughter...and then... The...the sound of he cries was...now that I think about it...so much better than the silence that followed it...At least then...I knew she...I knew she was alive...They made me stand there and watch as...as she writhed and twitched on the ground...By the time she'd gone still...I don't think there was a shred of me that had the energy to move...or to think...It was as if...watching her...dying...it was like I'd been dying with her...but I was still awake to see the end of it...

I remember...falling...I remember another gunshot...but...Even then...I didn't feel anything other than cold...it was like I was numb. I had the sensation, the knowledge that...the world was going away...somehow...I knew what it was, and I welcomed it. All I could do was lay there and stare at her body...I didn't even have the strength to reach over and touch her hand. I just remember...thinking to myself...this is it...so this is what all my hard work came to...all my work and she'd still ended up another body in the streets...and at that moment I didn't care...about anything. I just...closed my eyes...and let the cold wash over me.

I don't know how long I lay there...it seemed like forever...but then the next thing I knew...the cold came screaming back...I went from...nothing to horrible cold...and water...My mind panicked when I realized I was covered in water, wrapped in a tarp...I struggled, feeling chains around me, and then suddenly I was free. I swam to the surface, took a breath, not realizing even then that I'd been struggling for a very...very long time. I hadn't been able to take a breath for who knew how long. The only thing that came to my mind was Áine...I didn't know where she was...I had no memory of what had happened...I knew I had to find her, but...I couldn't say why. I was worried more about her than I was about myself. 

The first thing that actually reached me from the outside world was the voice...at first I didn't hear it...but then it got louder...and I looked up, trying to see who'd said it...but the only thing I saw was...a large, black bird, perched on the ground not far from my head. He watched me...as if he was as interested in me as I was in him...and then I finally seemed to realize just...where the voice was coming from...

I know people talk all the time about hearing voices in their heads, but...there's something so...unreal and real at the same time about this...that tells you it's not in your head...you're compelled to believe it...like there's no reason not to. The voice was comforting...but...at the same time...he spoke with a determination. He knew what I had to know...what I had to remember...and he was there to help me...the voice seemed to...go through me...in the strangest way. It was as if this creature...this bird who could speak to me...had known me my whole life...and loved me like a child...it was like a parent I didn't know I'd had...He told me everything was going to be ok, that I was going to be ok, but...that I had a job to do here, back on Earth, before I could rest. Always comforting...always it was ok, it was going to be alright. Like I was a child experiencing something new and frightening...and that was how I felt. I didn't understand, and he tried to explain things to me as easily as he could...but my mind was so muddled by that time that I wasn't able to make out what he meant. 

Finding the body of your little sister...in a dump ground...rotted away by maggots and...nothing but...bone and hard, leather like flesh, the remnants of clothes and hair...it's a very humbling moment. But then...something about it...about death...the fact that she was dead...didn't bother me, like one would think. I wasn't afraid of her body...Not even with the...decayed...rotted, grotesque form she'd taken. It was still her...and I remember going to my knees and just...reaching out and holding her in my arms. 

That was when the memories flashed back into my head. Everything...in that moment...it was as if I was there, at the moment of our deaths...reliving exactly what had happened...in a way, I was. I felt the pain as the wounds opened back up...bled...and then healed back over...but all I could do was...lay there and let the memories wash over me. I could feel myself jerking with the gunshots...and the pain...and I realized, afterwards, that my body had in fact been moving without my knowledge. I'd been standing the way they'd forced me to stand, moving as I had that day...I truthfully had no knowledge of the present moment. In my mind...I was still alive...I was watching her die for the first time...and I was letting myself go for the first time. 

Only afterwards did I wake up and realize what had happened. It seemed like days later...it may only have been moments...or hours...but I sat up...and I cried. I lay there and sobbed, and screamed, as if it would make it go away. My father would have beat me to see me acting that way. I hadn't cried since I was a child. And I'm not afraid to admit it now. When you've...been through something like this...you realize how unimportant things like this are. Yes, I was sobbing and screaming and crying so much I would make a woman uneasy...but the knowledge was too much for me to handle. The fact that you're dead, that the only person that ever meant the world to you was murdered in front of your face...that...you're back on Earth when you should be in a grave...or in Heaven or Hell or whatever you believe in...it's more than anyone would be able to handle.

Looking back now...I can see my mind for what it was at that moment. I suppose it's a sort of mental safety mechanism...just for people in this situation...so that they can handle what they'll have to do...but at that moment...I was so full of anger...and sadness...and rage that I wasn't thinking straight at all. I wasn't in my right mind. and that was what eventually stopped my crying. It just seemed as if everything melted away except for the anger...and I stopped...as if I'd never been crying. just like that. and then as if I wasn't in control of myself again, I stood...and I walked to a nearby police phone...and I dialed 911. I told them where to find Áine's body...and I walked off...I went to do what had to be done.


End file.
